


On Birthdays

by macabre_monkey



Category: The Last Herald Mage, Valdemar Series - Mercedes Lackey
Genre: Birthday, Introspection, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-22
Updated: 2011-09-22
Packaged: 2017-10-23 23:07:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 460
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/256101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/macabre_monkey/pseuds/macabre_monkey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stef muses about his past.</p>
            </blockquote>





	On Birthdays

**Author's Note:**

> Rambly little introspective comment fic I wrote for Thene a couple of months ago.

Birthdays. Ordinarily Stefen couldn’t be bothered about them. When he was younger, and first entered Bardic, it had shamed him once he realized it was actually _unusual_ to not know when you were born, or how old you were, or who your parents had been. The Healer who examined him when Lynelle dragged him to the palace had determined his approximate age, of course, and Bard Breda decided his “birthday” should be celebrated on the anniversary of his coming to the Collegium. Not that it had made much of a difference. His first few birthday parties had consisted of himself and a few of his teachers gathering in Breda’s apartment, eating sweets and giving him a few small gifts. It was more than he’d had before, but he always resented them for it, even though he knew they meant well. It only drove home the fact that he didn’t truly belong here, with all the rightborn children who went home (who _had_ homes, away from the Collegium) for their birthday parties, or had gifts sent to them by their family and friends if they lived too far away.

But then he’d met Medren. Medren, like all the other children, asked questions. Unlike all the other children, when Stefen answered them, he didn’t make fun of Stefen, or turn up his nose and act like Stef ceased to exist from that moment on. And the first time he’d seen a group of older, highborn boys taunting him, Medren laid the ringleader out with a bloody nose. If there was anything Medren didn’t tolerate, it was bullying. Of course standing up for Stefen made _him_ a target as well, but he was old enough and big enough that the others thought twice about taking him on, unless they were in a group. And Medren cheerfully explained that it didn’t bother him, being an outsider. He was used to it. And he was a bastard anyway, so they wouldn’t have liked him, anyroad.

Birthdays after he’d met Medren were a little better, especially after they got old enough to be allowed to venture into the city by themselves. They usually ended up in a tavern getting drunk on cheap beer, which to Stefen’s mind was the best and only possible way to celebrate a fake birthday. They’d have the kind of deep and meaningful conversations you can only have when you’re in your cups, about how narcissistic and pointless birthdays were, anyway.

And these days, he was a member of Court, true, and he was even quite popular. But still, it wasn’t true acceptance into their ranks. The highborn saw him as an oddity, a curiosity. He would always be an outsider.

Except in these modest, cramped quarters he now shared with Van.


End file.
